


a home at the end of the world

by orphan_account



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Olympics RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Post-olympics high, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 08:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14185065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This, she thinks as Scott leans in towards her for the second time that day, isn't meant to be shared with the world.





	a home at the end of the world

Much later, in the darkness of their shared room, she takes a moment to compose herself. She steadies her shuddering breaths and feels the wash of pleasure so uniquely thrilling and takes in the full weight of the realization that they are champions. Olympic _Gold_ Champions.

Scott closes the door behind him and the brief shadow of his long, lean body cast against the wall does nothing for the rush of emotions that overtake her. She has spent much of today in his arms, pressed against that familiar warm body which smells like clean laundry and home, her chin snuggling in the hollow of his neck. And yet, she muses, as he holds out his arms again, she does not think it is, or ever will be, enough.

She all but leaps into his arms, almost as gracefully as their earlier routine, and feels the heady rush of warmth flood her body. Scott's body fits against her so perfectly, hips against her hips and cheek against her salty cheek. He doesn't have to say a word and already she feels the inclination to sync up their breathing.

"I can't believe it." She whispers, threading her fingers into the base of his long hair.

"I can." She can hear the smile in his voice when he says this, "You are amazing. My forever-partner."

She doesn't stop the flood of emotions that rushes through her entire system. She was never in doubt about their futures together, but to hear the assurance in his voice, the steadiness of his resolve to never let her go, was better than any single Olympic win in her book.

She pulls away to look at him - really look into his eyes. They're shiny with unshed tears, and as she reaches up to cup his cheek, Scott leans in and gives her that same look which makes her stomach do a flip.

"I've been wanting to do this all day." He gently rubs his nose against hers, sharing a breath with her. "I wanted to do it on the podium."

She faintly blushes at the thought. There, in front of the world stage, he had given her _that look_ while his hand crept behind her neck to slowly guide her into him (as if she needed any further encouragement). He had leaned in, and it seemed to stop everything in its tracks. His gaze briefly lingered on her lips, and in that very last moment, she gave in to that one single inch of sanity and pulled away.

 _This_ , she thinks as Scott leans in towards her for the second time that day, _isn't meant to be shared with the world_.

His breath ghosts over her lips, a fleeting shadow of desire, and she can taste him even before he kisses her fully, his mouth slanting open against hers as she allows the barest touch of his tongue to the fullness of her bottom lip. His hands wander across her hips as he crosses the line past propriety and professionalism and their fucking business partnership, and she can feel how hard he is against her and she's surprised by how much she wants _more_.

She makes this intimate moan that she's vey sure he's never heard before, and she can feel his answering need in return. "T, please..." He almost begs, as his hand swiftly slides up her body and cups her cheek, his thumb splayed across her sharp cheekbone. "I want you so badly."

She pulls back to look at him - to _really_ look at him, admiring his thick hair ruffled by her wandering hands, the flush across his cheekbones and the way his lips are wet and swollen in ways that she feels mirrored in her own. He's so gorgeous and breathless and she wants nothing more than to bury herself in him and never let go. She pulls him close, inhaling the very essence of him, and whispers, "I'm all yours, Scott."

The groan that he makes would haunt her fantasies for years to come. Scott doesn't waste a single minute, scooping her up in his arms with such finesse she's surprised it doesn't turn into a routine. He carries her into the bedroom as his hands artfully divest her of her clothes. She's almost naked except for her panties, which he leaves for the last as he lays her down, his eyes hungry over her body. He takes his time to kiss every part of her - from the pink tips of her nipples to the line of her rib cage, even swirling his tongue experimentally over her belly button and nipping at her hip bones. He's finally between her legs, eyes gazing at her as he takes the edge of her panties in between his teeth and peels it off her in one smooth motion, leaving her utterly naked and defenseless before him.

She feels oddly shy in this moment, even though the room is so dark and she's sure the moonlight isn't doing her justice, but when she presses her legs together and starts to cup her breasts in her palms, Scott shakes his head and kisses her into acquiescence, "All mine, remember? Don't hide from me."

She grins at him in what she hopes is more sultry than joking, and, as if to make a point, slides her knee up between their bodies and pushes him gently away with the sole of her foot. "All yours, Scott, just as you are mine." She lets her foot trace the muscles along his chest, before sliding down slowly to the edge of his shirt and letting her toes slip inside. She fixes her gaze on him and steadies her voice. "Take this off, now."

Scott's eyes twinkle at her playfulness, and he toys with the edge of his shirt. "Spread your legs wider, and I'll do whatever the fuck you want."

She arches an eyebrow and bites down on her bottom lip, unable to contain her excitement. She moves her foot back and spreads herself as open as she's ever been before a man. She feels a primitive satisfaction as she sees his eyes widen. She knows she's wet, and she hopes Scott can see just how much she wants him.

Scott makes an appreciative sound deep in his throat as he slides his shirt off, and she's glad the moonlight illuminates his chest and abs so clearly from her view. "Very nice." She dips her gaze. "Now, the jeans."

He toys with the belt he has on, cocking his head almost as if he doesn't understand her command. She suddenly knows what's coming, even before he utters, "Not before you touch yourself for me, T." It's filthy and indulgent but she has never wanted to please anyone more.

She takes two fingers and licks them slowly before she uses them to open herself up to his gaze. She's so wet and soft and she can't help a soft moan when her fingers rub against her clit.

"Holy shit." Scott's soft utterance gives her all the encouragement she needs. She shows him exactly how she touches herself when she's alone in her bed, burying her muffled cries in the pillow so that he wouldn't hear the dirty things she wants him to do to her. She makes a show of circling her clit with her fingertip, sighing with unfulfilled desire.

"Good?" He asks, a little breathless. He's getting rid of his jeans rather quickly, she realizes in amusement.

"So good." She moans, "But it's not you and it's not enough."

He's not too steady as he tosses his jeans in the corner. His cock makes an impressive tent against his dark boxers as he murmurs, "T, you're killing me."

It's the lethal combination of his raspy sex-voice and the knowledge that he's as turned on as she is which makes her shiver. She feels herself getting ridiculously close to coming, so she slows her fingers. They're absolutely drenched. "I've done this so many times in the last year." She finds herself confessing as Scott tears off his boxer-briefs. "After practice, after coming home from practice, from touching you all fucking day and not being able to have you, Scott." She lifts her fingers to her mouth and tastes her desire. "Scott, I came for you so many times."

He swallows, and she finds animalistic pleasure in knowing that, for all his bravado and sexual confidence earlier, she can still undo Scott with just a few sultry words. He's left speechless and she knows very much that the ball is in her court now.

"Come here." She says, and he doesn't have to be told twice. He's so hard against her thigh and when he stretches out over her, his body covering hers, she winds her arms and legs around him as tightly as she can, refusing to let go.

Scott slides his cock against her entire wetness before he enters her and it's a very tight fit: whether because he's thicker than she's used to or because she hasn't had sex since they started training two years ago, she isn't sure. What she knows is that she doesn't muffle the noises - filthy, desperate noises - that spill freely from her lips. She gasps as he stretches her, fills her, burying all the way so deeply inside her that she feels almost complete.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his hair falling into his eyes.

She doesn't miss a beat. "Yes - fuck yes Scott. I want more."

He slides his hand into her hair and fucks her hard and rough, and she's sure he will leave bruises in the morning between her thighs. But she loves this sweet torture, feeling him throb inside her, slick with her wetness and his own. She leaves her own trail of bruises in turn: a bite mark at his shoulder blade, her nails imprinting half-moon crescents into his lower back, and a hickey at the base of his neck that she's particularly proud of.

When they come, it's not a surprise to her that it's completely in sync. Scott makes a shuddering groan that sounds like, "Tessa, holy fuck" and she echoes with her own wordless cry. They shiver endlessly into each other, a tangle of sweaty limbs, and when they catch their breath, Tessa feels the same rush of heady emotion envelop their twined bodies. She whispers his name and he murmurs hers in turn, their voices as open and naked and vulnerable as their bodies. When they finally settle down from their shared orgasm, she feels more satisfied than she's ever been in her whole life.

In the aftermath, he rolls onto his side and curls her into his warm body. His flushed cheek is pressed to the top of her head and when he kisses her and drowsily says, "I love you, T", she realises Scott Moir is, has always been, and will always be, her _home_.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how I suddenly became so invested in the purely platonic relationship between two Olympic ice dancers but it's been nearly two months of obsession. This baby practically wrote itself.
> 
> Reviews are lovely. Please pardon any glaring errors.


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